


to be loved

by lesbianryuko



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Baking, Canon Compliant, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 03:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20500280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianryuko/pseuds/lesbianryuko
Summary: Rana Lavellan teaches her girlfriend Sera how to make Dalish hearth cakes.





	to be loved

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! :D i wrote this for sera appreciation week, day 2: ships!!

Sera furrows her brow as she reads over the recipe. Looking back up at her girlfriend, she says, “_Elfy _ cookies?”

Rana shrugs. “They’re the only cookies I know how to make,” she says. “Although technically they’re called _ hearth cakes_.”

Sera sticks her tongue out and passes the paper back to Rana. “Whatever. More than I can make.”

“Not for long!” Rana says, setting the recipe down on a crate. “Besides, think of it this way. At least you can admit that you don’t know how to make cookies. That already makes you better than _ some _ people.”

Sera pretends to be uninterested in Rana’s “elfy cookies,” but she can’t stop herself from glancing over at the table where the ingredients are already set up. “How’d you get halla butter?”

“Remember that Dalish clan we met in the Exalted Plains?” Rana says as she ties an apron around her waist. “I traded them for it.”

Sera doesn’t quite know what to do, so she just watches as Rana measures the flour. She’s beautiful when she’s so focused, completely ignoring the brown hair that falls into her eyes from its messy, boyish cut. Lifting the sifter above a large bowl, she turns her head toward Sera and says, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Sera blinks a few times in surprise. “But I’m not…”

“Not what?” Rana says as she starts to sift the flour. “Not ‘elfy’ enough? Screw that. I got these ingredients because I want to bake cookies with you. I want us to make our own ‘us cookies.’ Together.”

At that, Sera gives in and allows herself a smile. “Frigging weird, you are,” she laughs, grabbing an apron of her own and joining Rana at the table, where she’s finished sifting the flour and has begun adding hardwood ash and salt. Meanwhile, Sera grabs the recipe and skims over it to find the next step.

“I’ll do the spices,” she says, grabbing a spoon. While she measures and mixes in the spices, Rana prepares the butter. It feels kind of nice, actually, being able to do something helpful and productive, but she’ll reserve judgment for when the cookies—_hearth cakes_—are actually finished. Maybe they’ll turn out tasting terrible, and it’ll be all her fault. That seems more likely.

“Okay,” Rana says. “Now we have to rub the butter into the mix until it all starts to look like crumbs. I recommend using our fingers; it’s easier.”

Sera smirks. “Mess! That’s fun stuff.”

Rana flashes her a snaggletooth grin, a smile reserved only for those she cares enough about. Sera counts herself lucky to be able to see it. “I knew you’d like that.”

Rana tosses the hunk of halla butter into the bowl, then presses it into the mixture. The yellow-white mush quickly covers her long, tan fingers, and after a moment, Sera sticks her own hands into the bowl and starts pushing the butter into the mix. Their hands constantly bump each other, and they giggle as their hands go from buttery to coated in thin crumbs. Sera savors her girlfriend’s giggle, another rare joy from a woman mired in bitterness and exhaustion.

When they’re nearly done, Sera takes her index finger and draws a swirly design around Rana’s right eye and down her cheek in sticky crumbs. “Now you match,” she says, referring to the black vallaslin that adorns the left side of her face, though it’s much more intricate than Sera’s last-minute crumb drawing. Rana snorts and kisses her on the cheek.

Sera handles the next step, stirring in the sugar and dried cranberries, while Rana beats the egg in a separate bowl to pour into the large one. They take turns mixing everything together until the dough actually starts to look like it’s supposed to.

Rana gets an excited gleam in her bright purple eyes, eyes that have captivated Sera since the moment she first saw them glowing in the darkness. “This is where they actually start to taste like cookies.”

They sprinkle some flour on the table and dump the dough out. Rana presses her palms against the lump and starts to knead with both hands, her movements strong and sure despite her tiny frame. She looks like she doesn’t need much help, so Sera stands and watches, admiring the subtle ripples of muscle in her arms and shoulders. Finally, when the dough is about as thin as it’s supposed to be, Rana grabs a goblet, turns it upside down, and says, “Cookie time,” before planting it firmly into one corner of the dough, cutting a perfect circle.

They fall into a pattern: Rana cuts the cookies, Sera pulls them out of the dough and sets them on a plate for the time being. When they run out of room to make another round shape, Rana rolls the remaining dough into a ball and flattens it out like she did before, until it’s so small that she can’t cut it with the goblet anymore. “What do we do with that, Inky?” Sera asks.

Rana picks up the little dough ball and rips it into two. Handing one half to Sera and popping the other into her mouth, she says, “We eat it.”

Sera laughs a little and shoves her piece into her mouth, chewing cautiously, prepared to hate it. It’s sweet and flavorful, and she likes the way the cranberries mix with the pastry dough.

Rana watches her expectantly. “Well? How is it?”

Sera shrugs and smiles awkwardly. “I...I like it.”

Rana grins again, and again, Sera feels blessed to witness it.

The final step is to actually bake the hearth cakes over a flame. Rana grabs a flat iron griddle and lets it heat up over the fire in the corner of the kitchen. Per her request, Sera tosses a pinch of flour into the griddle, and they watch as it turns golden brown, signalling that it’s ready.

Rana pulls the griddle out and sets it back on the table, while Sera carefully places the hearth cakes around the edge—“If we put them in the middle, it’ll blacken them,” Rana explains. She can’t fit them all in, so they’ll have to do a couple rounds.

They stand next to each other, watching the cookies get larger. Rana still has the crumb design on her face, and Sera leans down and rests her head on Rana’s shoulder. “You’re fun, Inky,” she says as she stares into the fire. “And you’re sweet, underneath all that ‘Grrr, look at me funny and I’ll knife you.’” They both giggle. When Sera first met Rana, she thought she’d never hear a sound like that come out of her mouth. She seemed too distant, too hostile, too bogged down with responsibility and hurt. For her to open up, to let loose, means more than Sera could ever put into words.

When the first batch of cookies is done, Sera helps pull them out of the griddle and onto the plate from earlier, while Rana replaces them with the unbaked half. Sera grabs one and pops the whole thing into her mouth, even though she knows she should wait until they’ve cooled down.

To the surprise of no one, the cookie burns her mouth, and she has to chew with it open to get some relief. “Piss!” she yells, but she’s smiling, too, and Rana shakes her head in mock disapproval.

“So? How are they?” Rana asks, keeping one eye on the griddle. “Besides the ‘burning your tongue’ part.”

Well, besides the “burning her tongue” part, the baked cookie tastes even better than the raw dough, which shouldn’t be too surprising, but it kind of is. It’s like she was still waiting for the cakes to turn bad somehow.

“They...they’re good,” she says. “I thought they’d be terrible. I thought I’d _ make _ them terrible. Not elfy enough to make elfy cookies right. Maybe that’s stupid, but ‘til now, it’s all I knew how to feel. ‘Not allowed to be elfy, Sera, elfy is bad,’ but ‘not elfy enough, Sera, try harder.’ So instead of feeling like a human or an elf, I just feel like...a _ failed _ elf.” She frowns and sighs. “So it’s good. This is good. Because now cookies make me think of you and how much I like you, instead of frigging Lady Emmald.” She grabs another cookie off the plate and takes a bite out of it, smiling spitefully. “And now I can make cookies better than _ she _ ever could. So she can eat it.”

Rana’s gaze is soft and warm, like a comforting light. “I’m glad, _ ma vhenan_.”

Usually Sera doesn’t like hearing Elvish—her inability to speak or understand most of it serves as just another reminder of her supposed brokenness. But when Rana calls her _ vhenan_, it’s different. It has a certain weight to it; it swells with everything Rana feels and can’t express. It’s a word that Rana shouts in desperation when Sera falls on the battlefield, and it’s a word that she whispers against Sera’s chest when they’re alone at night. It feels _ right _ for once, to love and be loved by her.

It’s Sera that breaks the trance between them when she smells the burning. “Inky! The cookies!”

Rana jumps and quickly pulls the griddle out from the flame and sets it on the table. The cookies aren’t on fire, but they’re significantly darker than the first batch.

“Ugh,” Sera says, wrinkling her nose. “See, that’s what happens when you get too lovey-dovey.”

They stare at each other for a short moment, and then they both burst into laughter.


End file.
